


A Fairytale differently told

by Lexi_Noctura



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Complete, F/M, Little Red Riding Hood AU, fairytale AU, witch!Clarke, wolf!bellamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29810706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexi_Noctura/pseuds/Lexi_Noctura
Summary: You think you know the story of Little Red Riding Hood? Let me tell you the fairytale differently.Let me tell you about how Clarke found a wolf in the woods, how she became friends with him and about her Grandmother. Let me tell you the story differently and then tell me what you think!
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 17
Kudos: 33





	1. For every story needs a beginning…

**Author's Note:**

> This story started as an assignment I had to do for one of my English-classes, and quickly escalated into this monster… Well, I am not sorry, I had a blast writing it!  
> Instead of stealing more of your time with this note, I’ll let you read it and let you make up your own opinion about it.  
> Have fun, and please let me know your thought! :)

Many fairytales are quite the same

A damsel in distress, wishing for her true love,

A hero in shining armor, longing to prove himself,

An evil that has to be bested, hating the world,

And a happily ever after, waiting for them to come

Well, let me tell you a slightly different story

Let me tell you a story about loyalty and trust

About friendship and family

About love and belonging

But be warned as well, for this is not an ordinary story

And sadly, not one from my mind entirely

But one I love and long to share

So, pay attention and be prepared

Ready?

Good!

\--–∞---

Once upon a time, but not too long ago, there was a girl with blond hair and fair skin. She was the mayor’s daughter and lived with her parents in a big house at the edge of their village, close to the dark forest. Legends had it, that the forest was cursed, that whoever took a step inside would come back changed if they would come back at all. The villagers told stories about beasts and monsters roaming the woods and about the horrible creatures living inside.

But for Clarke, they were just that. Legends.

Ever since she was old enough to walk alone her mother took her into the forest to visit her cranky Grandmother or collect herbs, for her mother was the village’s witch and a skilled healer. So, Clarke knew the woods, knew the sounds the twigs were making in the wind, and that the crunch underneath her soft leather boots was from the leaves she stepped on. She wasn’t afraid of the woods. She knew it, like she knew her home and, in many ways, it was just that. Home.

When she turned fourteen, her mother allowed her to go into the woods on her own, to bring supplies to her Grandmother, or pick some weeds. The only thing she had to do, was to stay on the trail and come back before the sun would set.

And that was what she did. For weeks and months she walked the trail and only ventured of when she saw an herb her mother needed, but always stayed in sight of the trail. Though she longed to walk freely among the trees, she did not dare, for if her mother knew, she would never be allowed in the woods again. Not alone at least, and that was what she loved the most in there.

The peace and quiet of being alone, combined with the sounds from the wind and birds and forest life. Sounds she knew by heart and loved above everything else in the world.

For weeks and months, she walked the trail to her Grandmother's house, brought her cake and bread and wine and meat, talked to her, and then went back home, until one day.

……

One day she walked the trail and had just started to listen to the song of the forest, when she all but froze in her steps a moment later. What she heard wasn’t the song of the birds and neither the waving willow. It wasn’t the burble of the small stream or the cracks of twigs underneath her boots. It was a sound more painful than she had ever heard here in the peaceful forest.

It was a cry, a whimper, a whine and it broke her heart upon hearing it.

Leaving the trail without a second thought, Clarke rushed through the woods, peeking behind every tree and every bush in her search for the pitiful sound.

Then, there, ahead of her on a clearing not bigger than ten feet, she saw a wolf lying on his side, blood pooling from a long gash on his side and leg.

She wasn’t afraid of it, for she knew instinctively that there was nothing to fear from it. She walked around the wolf until she saw brown eyes landing upon her, and only then started to slowly move closer. The whimper she heard earlier grew louder. Another step and she was right next to it, kneeling gently by its side and raising her hands. The dark grey snout twitched but otherwise didn’t move, its eyes never leaving hers. After a moment, she started to inch closer and took a closer look at the still bleeding wound.

As soon as her fingers touched the wolf’s fur, his whimpers stilled and a pleading expression filled its brown eyes. Placing her hands over the wound, Clarke allowed her magic to flow. Being a witch like her mother, Clarke had learned to use her gift to heal and help others.

Her mother had taught her well. The gash closed underneath her fingers and the blood vanished, seeping together with her magic into the wolf. Her magic knitting the torn flesh back together and left only a thin pink line behind, running from his rips to his left haunch.

It only took a minute before the pained and pleading expression got replaced by surprise. Surprise and a softness Clarke had never seen in anyone’s eyes before. Not human, not animal.

Twisting his head back, the wolf looked at his flank before pushing himself off the ground, landing to his paws in a fluent, even if in a slightly hesitant motion.

Clarke stayed where she was. She still wasn’t afraid of him, but she didn’t want to scare him away. Standing, Clarke only now realized how big the wolf actually was. He was at least four feet tall, much bigger than any wolf or dog she had ever seen in the forest or her village. His fur was thick and dark grey, lighter around his belly, but almost black on his back. Around his ears she could see soft-looking curls, just as dark as the fur on his back. The ugly copper-colored patches on his side had disappeared with her healing- magic, something she was oddly grateful for. The wolf was beautiful.

Clarke watched him, taking a slow step, shifting his weight on his formally injured side, before trotting around her with a light spring in every step he took. It was almost like he was prancing around her, showing off the results of her deed.

She couldn’t stop herself. A bubble of laugh escaped her throat before she could hold it back, making the wolf halt in his tracks, standing now right in front of her. Crooking his head to one side, she felt his eyes looking her over before taking a step closer.

Her laughter died abruptly. Another step, then another, and the wolf was eye to eye with her, merely inches away from her face. Feeling his hot breath ghosted over her skin, she didn’t think of fear, but that he didn’t smell like she would have expected. His breath didn’t stink and neither did his fur. In fact, his smell was… pleasant, engulfing and even welcome. Heavy, yes, but not bad, just differently of what she would have thought.

Blinking at her once, the wolf shoved his head forward until his wet nose bumped softly into her cheek. He stayed like that for a moment, before pulling back again, blinking once more and turning around, trotting into the woods. Just before he disappeared, his big head swung back again, the soft expression in his eyes still there, and then he was gone.

……

Clarke was still sitting on the small clearing long after the wolf had disappeared, the wind cooling the spot of wet skin on her cheek. She felt herself smile at the feeling, while her thoughts were still with the strange wolf.

In all the years her mother had brought her into the woods she had seen many creatures, even wolves, but none of them had acted the way this one had. They never attacked her or were hostile but always kept their distance, ducked under the next bush, or just turned and ran away whenever she or her mother came too close. But this one seemed almost friendly, and the emotions in his eyes were something she had never seen before, not even in humans.

Clarke sat on the clearing until the sun started to sink and she had to rush to bring her Grandmother the supplies and get back home before it turned dark. But all through her way back home, she felt a slight prickle in the back of her neck, like something or someone was watching her.

Three days later her mother sent her into the forest to collect some rare roots. Clarke caught herself watching the woods more carefully than before, looking for a pair of soft, brown eyes.

The small roots her mother wanted were not far from the trail but hidden deep within the earth, and only grew beneath heavy thicket.

It was hard work, for the earth was solid and the thicket was layered with thorns and poison nettles, which she had to avoid if she didn’t want to spend the next week in bed. It took her nearly a day to collect enough roots to go back home, but all that time she felt a pair of dark brown eyes resting on her. She had seen the wolf peering through bushes and tall grass once or twice on her search for the small roots. It ought to be scary, but she felt protected, like someone was watching over her.

The next time she went into the woods, she was greeted by a neatly piled stack of the same roots she had to collect a few days ago, just a few paces away from her trail. Looking around, Clarke spotted a big gray wolf, sitting a small distance away from the pile, following her every step. Instead of moving, he just looked at her, his features as soft as they could be in a wolf’s face. When she didn’t move, his head nodded towards the roots, before blinking at her slowly.

It was an odd gesture for an animal, but Clarke still walked towards what she now saw was a gift, carefully putting it in her small bag slung around her shoulder. The roots were clean and didn’t bear a mark of teeth or claws. She wondered how he brought them here, but bit her tongue a second before asking. Her mother had always told her, that she was too big of a dreamer and should rather use her head instead of her feelings. So, she stayed silent, for he was still a wolf, and wolves couldn’t talk. When she lifted her head again to look at him, he was gone.

It went on like that for several weeks.

Whenever Clarke was sent to get some herbs or roots, or bring supplies to her Grandmother, a small pile of gifts was placed close to her trail. Tidily cleaned roots, neatly tied bundles of herb and weeds, and even some mushrooms and berries were placed on the leaf-covered ground. And next to them, the wolf. He always sat a few feet away, musting her and nodding his heavy head to his precious offerings.

And whenever she wanted to thank him or ask a question, she heard her mother’s voice, scolding her for not using her head.

Clarke was grateful for every leaf he brought her, every tiny root, and every plant. Her mother, though loving in her own way, was strict and demanded always her best, and the gifts were a way for Clarke to breathe a little lighter at home.

After a month of silently accepting the wolf’s presents and of wondering why he did it, she finally decided to follow her feelings, ignoring her mother’s nagging voice in her head.

Clarke walked into the woods, followed the trail leading to her Grandmother’s little hut, and listened to the songs of the birds and wind until she came to the spot where her wolf waited for her.

Clarke had wanted to call him by a name but something inside of her bristled whenever she started to think of one, so after a while, she just referred to him as _her_ wolf in her head. She didn’t need to call him a name, for no one knew that he existed, otherwise her parents would surely forbid her to go into the woods. Though she was a witch and almost fifteen, her mother and father still only saw the little girl she used to be.

Walking towards the pile of herbs Clarke, stopped before bending down, looking the wolf directly into his soft, brown eyes.

“Thank you.” Her voice was steady and gentle, but his head jerked upwards none the less, staring at her with a mixture of shock and glee. “It is very kind of you to bring me all those gifts, but I need you to know that you don’t have to do that. I didn’t help you because I expected something in return, I helped you because you were in pain, and no one deserves to suffer.” His head crooked to the side, one ear twitching while his eyes bored into her. Clarke had a feeling that he understood every word she said, weighing the honesty behind them. “You really help me with them though, so thank you again!”

Once started, she felt like she had opened gates that were closed for more than a month, and the words just continued to pour from her lips.

“I wanted to give you a name, but I think you already have one, right? You are different than the other wolves and it felt rude, like I was talking something away from you, if I gave you a name on my own. So, do you have a name? I would like to know it, all my friends have names. Well, they would have names if I had any friends, but I hope that we are! Friends I mean… I like you! Much more than the people in the village… They look at me and see only a witch or the mayor’s daughter, but never _me_ … But I don’t feel that way around you, even though you don’t talk.” Clarke giggled a bit. “Where is your family? Or your pack? Or are you alone out here?”

She felt herself starting to babble but she didn’t care. The wolf was intriguing. His expression changed with every word she said, jumping between amusement, joy, and sympathy, but the softness within his eyes never left. At the mentioning of his family, his eyes sobered suddenly and a layer of pain covered the beautiful brown orbs. Clarke silenced immediately, afraid that she hurt him with her questions.

After not speaking for a minute, the wolf stood and walked towards her, his soft paws tapping quietly over the ground. When he reached her, his eyes looked up at her, his head almost reaching her shoulder. Walking around her, she felt a soft pressure against her back, pushing her towards the small pile of herbs. Turning around, she saw her wolf looking at her again, blinking slowly before brushing his head along the side of her arm. His fur was soft and warm and calmed her anxious thoughts immediately.

“Thank you…”

Bending down to place the gift into her bag, she felt his fur once again caress her skin before he trotted into the woods. Like always, just before he disappeared the wolf turned around, but instead of blinking at her, he bared his teeth with a glint in his eyes.

Clarke laughed. The wolf, _her_ wolf, was smiling at her!

Waving her hand in goodbye, Clarke felt lighter than in a long time. The wolf disappeared, followed by her soft whisper. “Until next time, friend.”

……

After finally bringing herself to talk to her wolf, Clarke couldn’t wait to get back to the forest. She was almost running out of her house when her mother asked her to bring some cake to her Grandmother.

But when she reached the familiar spot, she froze.

Her wolf wasn’t there, but next to a neat pile of berries stood a boy.

He was maybe a year older than her, with wild black curls and dark skin. He was taller than her and lean muscles stretched the simple brown shirt he wore, but Clarke didn’t care. Her wolf wasn’t here, only this stranger, standing in front of her with a curious expression on his face. His feet were bare on the brown and orange ground, but he didn’t seem to mind, his eyes locked on her features, scanning every little movement she made.

“I am Bellamy…”

Clarke startled back. His voice was deep and maybe a bit rough, but what surprised her was the softness with which he spoke the words. Like he knew her. Like he spoke to a friend instead of a complete stranger in the middle of the woods.

Instead of responding, Clarke felt her fingers itching with magic, her temper and worries demanding to know where her wolf was right now.

“Where is he?” She almost growled at him. She didn’t want to know his name, she wanted to know where her friend was.

Bellamy flinched and his eyes locked on the ground in front of him, but he didn’t answer. A few moments of silence were all it took to push Clarke closer to fear for her friend and anger towards the strange boy.

“What did you do to him? I know that he was here, he brought the berries. He is _always_ here when I come, so: Where. Is. He?” The last words were laced with barely concealed worries.

The boy looked at her again with an expression she couldn’t name, deep brown eyes boring into hers. Familiar brown eyes, but before Clarke could understand what she was seeing, a pair of tanned hands rose into the air.

Instead of answering, Bellamy tugged just his shirt up on his left side, turning slightly. Along his rips and down his side was a thin, pink line separating the otherwise tanned and smooth skin, disappearing underneath the fabric of his pants.

Clarke felt herself staggering back, her hands flying up to cover her mouth, though not fast enough to cover the gasp that escaped her.

It was _him_.

The boy in front of her was the wolf, _her wolf_ , that had brought her gifts for over a month. The scar, the only trace left of the bloody wound she had healed the first time they met. _How was that possible?_

“I… uhm, well… I guess I am what you would call a werewolf, but I preferer shapeshifter. I don’t change with the moon or eat little children.” He laughed, though it sounded a bit forced, like he didn’t know what to say or how to act. And maybe he didn’t. Clarke most certainly didn’t. She was still trying to understand that the boy in front of her – Bellamy – was the same as the wolf she had healed on the clearing, even though the scar on his side spoke for itself.

“I am sorry if I scared you. I am really not good with this, talking to humans and all… But the other day you were so kind to me, and you actually _spoke_ to me and I just couldn’t… I wanted to answer. And I wanted to say thank you! I didn’t know how I could explain what I am – well it seems like I am still not doing a very good job with that…,” he ran his fingers through his thick curls and she saw a slight blush creeping over his cheekbones. “But then you said that you are a witch and suddenly it just made sense… Back when you healed me, I didn’t know what you were, I never met a human before or a witch for that matter. I just thought that all humans could do that, could heal with their hands. But when you are a witch, then you are like me! Different from the others and I thought that you would maybe understand… And that you maybe would like to be my friend, even though I am different…”

He rambled and the slightly red color on his skin grew darker with every passing word. Clarke just stood there and stared. Every word he said hit her to the core, and the familiar and warm feeling she had whenever her wolf was around, came back.

Bellamy fell quiet and both of them just stared at each other. His expression, a mixture of pleading, hope, and fear of rejection, while hers just showed astonishment, slowly replaced by sheer joy. The moment she accepted that _her wolf_ was the boy standing in front of her, Clarke got nearly overwhelmed with warm glee.

“It’s really you? You are really the wolf? _My wolf?_ Oh, sorry that was rude! This is… this is amazing! I never knew that there were actually others! Of course, I heard the legends about monsters and beasts in the woods, but I would never have imagined that they were real!” He flinched and hurt mirrored in his dark eyes. Realizing her mistake, Clarke took a step closer to him, raising a hand like she was trying to touch him, trying to ease his worries. “No! No, that’s not what I meant. You are not a monster! It’s just that… My mother said that there is no one else but us. Only humans and my family… it’s just so amazing to meet someone else like me, someone who is _different_. And well… But, yes, I would really like to be your friend! It will be fun to have someone to actually talk to, you know? Someone who could understand you and to be there for each other…”

Clarke stopped herself and laughed instead, not even knowing why.

A moment later Bellamy joined in, his laugh deep and rich, vibrating through the air and filling her with even more joy.

_She had a friend!_

……

From then on, the two of them met up every time Clarke came into the woods. He would greet her near the edge of the forest in his wolf form and shift into his human one after they were hidden and deeper within the safety of the trees.

The two of them talked and laughed with each other and Clarke enjoyed every moment of it.

For her, it was the first time in her life she had a friend, someone who wanted to know about her for _her_ sake and not her talent as a witch or her being the daughter of her parents.

For Bellamy, it was the first time in a very long time he was able to not feel alone anymore and having someone to listen and talk to, someone who understood and cared.

When Clarke turned fifteen a few months later, she convinced her parents to let her go into the woods whenever she wanted as her present. From then on, the two of them grew inseparable. She came every morning to the small trail leading to her Grandmother’s hut, where he would be already waiting, and left the woods late in the afternoon, arriving at home with the last few rays of daylight.

On their walks, they started to tell each other about their lives.

She told him about her mother and the expectations she had of her daughter. She talked for hours and days about the different spells and tricks she had to learn and the few she taught herself. She even showed him the little blue butterflies she was able to create out of pure light, dancing in her palms. It was a spell her mother loathed, for it wasn’t helpful. She had called it useless and nothing more than a waste of time and energy, but Bellamy loved them, so Clarke continued to learn. She talked about her father, about how kind and warm he was, always open for a hug or an open word, even though he was barely at home, always on duty in their village.

Whenever they arrived at her Grandmother’s hut, she left him for an hour, talking to the old witch before coming back to him. Bellamy never came into the hut with her, never even stepped onto the small clearing where it stood, for the old hag was rude and even cruel towards strangers, especially men.

But when Clarke would leave her, he would always be waiting for her a few feet into the woods, a small bundle of herbs, weed, or other ingredients he had found for her, in hands.

After asking how he always got them so quickly, he told her a bit flustered that he could easily smell them in the forest and dig them out in his wolf form. Once he even admitted that he loved the warm looks she rewarded him with whenever he gave her a new bundle. She had only laughed at that and told him that it was not about his gifts, but about seeing him again, seeing her best friend again. The person she had started to love the most in the world.

……

With every story she told him, Bellamy repaid her with one of his own.

He told her about his first controlled shift, the pride in his mother's eyes, and the tingle underneath his skin he had felt for over a week afterward. His mother was like him, a shapeshifter, just like his sister and his father.

His father had died before he was born, killed by a rival pack. Afterwards, his mother had isolated herself, the loss of her mate so painful that she started to loath any wolf that wasn’t her own flesh and blood.

He told her about Octavia, his sister, but those stories were darker. She had always been a troubled child, impulsive, and more wolf than human for she refused to shift for weeks, sometimes even months at a time.

On a grim day, Bellamy told Clarke about the day his mother died, and he was left with his sister as his only companion. He told her about the day when two hunters had tracked the small family down, swords already drawn and arrows nocked in their bows. They had been in their wolf form at that time, just coming back from a playful chase through the woods, when their mother had smelled them. Turning around she nearly barked at him to go and hide his sister, to not come no matter what he would hear. He had done what his mother had told him to, pushing his sister into a small cave, into the furthest corner from the entrance. His mother’s howls had filled the air only moments later before silencing suddenly. He had kept his sister in the cave for an hour, not daring to go out in fear of what he would see. When they returned to the place they had seen their mother last, the forest reeked of blood. The hunters had slain their mother, thinking that it had been her who killed their sheep a few nights ago.

It wasn’t. It had been Octavia in one of her violent outbursts.

That had been three years before Clarke had found him bleeding on the forest floor.

Octavia had lost control once again and lashed out. During their time alone his sister had grown more violent with every year. She had started to blame him for their mother’s death, blamed him for running and hiding instead of protecting their mother and killing the hunters. She had lashed out at him many times, called him a coward and weak, but never really attacked him. The day Clarke found him, his sister had been worse than ever before. She had yelled at him in human form, called him a coward, and for the first time in their lives a monster too. He didn’t know why, but when he tried to calm her, she exploded.

Bellamy told Clarke how his sister had shifted and growled at him, bared her teeth and a moment later he had felt a sharp pain running along his side and the smell of blood had filled the air.

The day he told the story was the first time Clarke saw him cry. She had hugged him close, scratched the nape of his neck, and just held him tight. They had stayed like that for an hour, his heavy sobs and the song of the forest the only sound in the air. When he had pulled away, Clarke had placed her hands on his face, stroking away the deep lines on his forehead, and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. She had told him that he would never be alone again and that no matter what would happen or what he would do, he would never be a monster, not to her. Never to her.

That day marked a shift in their friendship, for now, they were not just best friends but partners, _mates._

\--–∞---


	2. … but doesn’t have to go the way one thinks…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who left such lovely and nice comments, subscribed and/or left kudos!! I honestly didn't think that more than maybe three people would even look at it… Thank you!!! :)

It had been almost seven years since Clarke found a wounded wolf bleeding on the forest floor.

Seven years since she met her best friend and mate.

She loved the word, for it meant, that they would be by each other’s side for as long as they may live, walking their way together and never needing to be alone anymore.

They were mates for life and she loved it. She loved him.

The day their life changed was a day like any other.

Her mother had commanded her to go and bring her cranky old Grandmother supplies and a special tea, for she had fallen old and sick.

A few years ago, her mother would have asked her to go, but nowadays it was an order, spoken with indifference and a stiffness to her voice that wasn’t there in Clarke’s childhood.

Over the years her mother had grown cold, but Clarke never found out why. It had started months before her father died in an accident, but ever since his death, her mother was nothing more than the cold, hard shell of the woman that had once raised her.

On her way to the small hut, Clarke talked with Bellamy, weaving her fingers through his and leaning against his shoulder every once in a while. They talked about their plans and wishes for the future, longing for a time when they wouldn’t have to hid what they are to each other anymore.

Reaching her Grandmother’s clearing, Clarke planted a gentle kiss on his cheek before walking into the open. Like he did years ago, she turned around just before losing him from her sight, winking and then stepping onto the free space.

The small hut laid lonely in a field of tall grass and withered crops, moss growing on its walls and roof. The windows were covered in a thick layer of grime and dust, and the door creaked horribly when she pushed it open.

There was no sign of her Grandmother.

Stepping into the small bedroom on the far side of the hut, she was greeted by a sour expression on a wrinkled face.

Her Grandmother was an enigma Clarke had never been able to fully understand. Though the old hag was rude and standoffish and sometimes right out mean, it still broke Clarke’s heart a little to see her like that.

Scanning her Grandmother, the young witch took a step into the room.

Her skin was paler than the last time, and her eyes had sunken even deeper into her face. The formerly grey and thick hair was now nothing more but thin strands hanging sadly of her head. The only thing that hadn’t changed was the steel in her eyes and the sour expression that seemed to be carved into her very being.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Her voice was rough and had a certain bite to it, which made Clarke smile for a moment. There was still her Grandmother within the broken vessel of an old woman.

“Today is finally the day I get rid of the miserable state! Today I can finally go into the Beyond and be free of the dreadful life, so don’t look at me like that! Better tell me what your damn mother thought would be fitting for a dying old hag.”

Lifting her bag from her shoulder, Clarke pulled the tea out first but shoved it back hastily after hearing a scoffed curse coming from the bed. The next thing was a sweet cake she had baked just this morning. Sneaking a peek at the old woman through her lashes, she saw a hungry glint in her eyes. Cutting off a piece of the cake and putting it on a plate next to her Grandmother, Clarke couldn’t hide a smirk, before she pulled the last item out of her bag.

Her mother had told her to take a bottle of healing potion to bring, but she knew that it wouldn’t be helping anymore. Not even if her Grandmother would be actually drinking it. So instead, she had stolen a bottle of her father’s good wine from their cellar, which she now presented to the grumpy old woman. The cake was already gone at the time she had poured a generous cup and placed it next to the now empty plate.

“That’s more like it! I bet she told you to bring me that horribly tasting brew she likes to call help, am I right? Pah!”

That was one of the few reasons why Clarke was fond of her Grandmother despite her character. The constant complaining about her mother was somewhat soothing for the child within her. To hear that her mother wasn’t perfect, that in fact her own mother thought of her as a fool from time to time, made her appear more like a normal person.

The old witch drowned the whole cup before waving at Clarke to pour her another one.

Fifteen minutes later half of the bottle was emptied, and the pale eyes of her Grandmother grew heavy.

“It’s time child. Finally! I will see you in the Beyond, but don’t come too soon, understood? I want some peace and quiet in there first…” Clarke just nodded, the bite in her Grandmother’s tone familiar and welcome. She knew what she meant, and that was enough. A dullness filled her whole being a moment later, taking something away from her that had always been there and leaving her empty.

……  
  


Bellamy found her like that two hours later. He had started to get worried when she didn’t come back after a while but had forced himself to wait a little bit longer, but as soon as he stepped on the clearing he knew.

The bitter taste of death was already in the air, too faint for any human to smell, but in his wolf form more than enough to raise his hackles. The next thing he notices, and what made him run into the hut without thinking twice, was a muffled cry.

Bursting through the bedroom door, Bellamy found Clarke sitting on a wonky-looking chair, her face buried in her hands. A moment later he was in front of her, pushing his snout between her arms and shifted just as her arms came to wrap around his neck. Her head fell forward, landing on his shoulder before she buried her face in his warmth.

For a long while, they stayed like that. Her arms wrapped around his frame while hot tears dropped on his shirt. Swaying their bodies from side to side, all Bellamy could do was holding her close and pressing his lips into the crown of her blonde hair. A silent reminder that he was there, that she wasn’t alone.

At some point, he had managed to pull her on her feet, still cradling her but now also whispering soft words into the otherwise still air.

Just like she did with him all those years ago, he smoothed the lines above her brow and kissed her after she had pulled back.

“I should go and tell my mother…”

Clarke’s voice was quiet, still laced with the echoes of her tears. Bellamy nodded, pulling her close to his side and leading her out of the hut.

He walked with her till they were at the edge of the woods, the sun high in the sky.

“I’ll go and tell my mother, you stay here, please… I want you there but you can’t…” He knew. They talked about telling her mother about them, but never did. Her mother would never accept a ‘monster’ in her life, someone who lived in the wood and who looked like him. His dark skin, black hair, and lean body was something the villages rarely saw and almost feared. Like they saw nothing but the stories from their childhood, telling them about dark men with evil hearts, coming to take away their wives and children.

Clarke leaned into his warm embrace for another moment before stepping away. She hadn’t even walked a hundred feet when her mother stormed towards her. The brown hair she normally kept back from her face in tight plaits, hung loosely in her face. A face that was now flushed red with anger and showed a fire in her eyes that made Clarke froze in her tracks.

Steeling herself against the fury in her mother’s whole posture, Clarke opened her mouth before her mother could.

“Grandmother died today.”

“I know, I felt it!” She had never heard her mother talk in such a tone. It wasn’t just cold anymore, it was ice and soaked in so much hatred and grief that she could almost taste it in the air. “And it is because of that _monster_ you think I don’t know about. A werewolf, Clarke! Are you really that stupid to think that he could be anything but a monster? That’s what he is, what his kind does, you are just too blind to see it! Monsters like him killed your father and now your Grandmother too!” Her voice had grown louder, almost screaming, while her finger stabbed towards the place where Bellamy still stood, barely hidden behind a tree.

Clarke felt the floor underneath her feet moving and her heart started to beat faster with every passing moment.

Her father was killed in an accident in another village, that’s what everyone had told her. That’s what her mother had told her. Disbelieve filled her head, but before Clarke could open her mouth, her mother had reached her and gripping her upper arm with vice-like strength.

Even from here, Clarke could see the mixture of worry, fear, and anger in Bellamy’s eyes flaring, and every muscle in his body seemed to be tense, ready to run to her, ready to protect her. Their eyes locked a moment later and just when he was about to move, one thought pushed through her confused mind. She had to protect him at any cost! Clarke shook her head the slightest bit and allowed her worry for him to show in her eyes.

_No!_

He froze, his already fearful brown eyes filled with the pain of watching her being dragged away by her mother, and something threatened to break inside of her. He didn’t follow and Clarke was torn between gratitude and the begging of her heart for his soothing touch.

The voice of her mother, combined with the force she used to drag her to their house ripped her eyes from him. “I already called out for a hunter to kill that monster, and until I have his pelt, you will not leave this house!”

Clarke had never heard her mother speak like that, not once and a cold shiver ran down her spine while her heart beat even faster in her chest.

Her mother had gone mad. That was the only thought that shot through her head before Clarke’s mind got overwhelmed by fear. Fear for Bellamy. Her mother sent for a hunter! A hunter with only one mission: _to kill her mate!_

Turning her head once more, Clarke used her magic to send Bellamy three words, written in tiny streaks of blue light, appearing just in front of his face.

_Run._

_Hide._

_Clearing._

She couldn’t see his expression but trusted her feeling that he saw, that he understood. The last thing she heard before her mother pushed her roughly into their house and shut the door, was a painful howl, fleeing into the dark forest.

……

As soon as her mother pushed her into the house and through the hallway into her own room, Clarke ripped herself away from the woman, pressing herself against the wall behind her.

Trying to push her fear for her mate aside, Clarke’s eyes hushed through the room, looking for a way to escape. There was none. Her mother stood in front of the door, her eyes as cold as her voice has been. The window was closed, but Clarke could see a guard standing in front of it, keeping her from climbing out.

Clarke knew better than to beg her mother to change her mind. The woman that wore her mother’s face, a face she once loved was now nothing more but ice and hatred.

Instead of pleading for Bellamy’s life, she forced her mind to still and latched onto her magic inside of her, drawing power from it. She couldn’t use it to fight her way out, for her mind was too troubled to concentrate on a spell, but she could use it to center herself.

“What did you meant when you said that father was killed by a werewolf?” Her voice was plain, no sign of her fear, worries and pain in it, and the magic helped her to keep her tears at bay. A part of her had already started to work on an escape-plan, to run away with Bellamy, but she just had to know.

Clarke was surprised when her mother answered, her voice still cold, but not laced with the amount of hatred from before.

“The village he went to was haunted by a whole pack of those monsters and reached out for our help. Your father went of course, but he didn’t stand a chance. Those beasts had torn him apart in bright daylight, together with seven hunters of the other village and even two children that had been too close by.”

Clarke felt tears streaming down her face, and her head shook violently, but the expression on her mother’s face was indifferent. She realized all of a sudden, that the person in front of her was nothing more but a vessel of hatred for what had happened to her father.

“You think that that boy you found out there is any different, but they are all the same. They are monsters, vile beasts and I will not stand another day of it being alive.”

Without another word, her mother turned around and marched out of the door, followed moments later by the heavy turn of the key.

Clarke broke down and cried.

Her tears eventually dried, leaving her with a plan and newfound strength.

She had made the decision to flee as soon as her mother had pulled her into the house, her fear of losing Bellamy stronger than anything she felt before.

Pushing herself off the floor Clarke started to roam through her room. The sun had started to set at one point, and the man in front of her window cast a long shadow, a constant reminder of her being trapped.

Pushing the heavy chest at the foot of her bed open, Clarke started to dig through her belongings. A heavy cloak, a pair of sturdy boots, long pants and two tunics got thrown on her bed. A simple dress, several pieces of fabric, a small case with needle and thread followed shortly. She found a shirt that once belonged to her father and that she had kept as a reminder. It too landed on the small pile.

Her small stocks of bandages, herbs and dressings got stored in a wooden box, and placed on the bed. Her small book full of spells and recipes landed beside it a moment later. She didn’t have any food in her room, but some of her dried mushrooms and weeds could feed them if necessary.

Standing up, Clarke looked around the room. Though it had been her bedroom for as long as she could remember, it didn’t hold a lot of things. On the small table along one of its walls were token and trinkets from her childhood, pretty stones or dried flowers, some ingredients for potions, but nothing she truly needed.

The small pile on her bed was everything she would need for her plan, everything they would need to find a place somewhere else to live. Somewhere safe.

……

It was already dark outside when Clarke finished packing, all her belongings now stuffed into two bags, sitting on her bed. She had had enough space to add another pair of pants and had found a flint at the bottom of the chest, but now both bags were almost too heavy for her to run with.

The next step in her plan was to draw magic. Many of the spells she knew were simple, not too complicated or powerful to need too much preparation, but not this one. She had read about it in her mother’s spellbook one night and had remembered it on a feeling that she would need it one day.

Sitting on her bed, the two bags to her side, Clarke closed her eyes and concentrated.

An hour before the moon would come up, Clarke cast a spell more powerful than she had ever had. Two small bags hung heavy across her back while her palms glowed in red light. She could feel her magic expanding, could feel it wrapping around the mind of her mother and the two guards in front of her door and window, pulling them into a dark sleep. Deep into their own heads and away from their duties and feelings. She heard the first guard drop, his body landing with a heavy thud on the wooden floor. The second one fell, slumping against the wall outside. The last person to fall under her spell was her mother, her mind guarded by different spells on her own, but not strong enough to withstand Clarke for long. Her anger, worry, and complete and utter fear for her mate caused her magic to be stronger than it ever had been before.

Climbing out of the window, Clarke didn’t look back at the small village she grew up in, nor at the house that had been her home for fifteen years. Sneaking across the plain field between the house and the woods, Clarke kept her eyes locked on the small trail she knew would lead her home. Her home who was waiting for her in the depths of the forest.

She reached their clearing half an hour later, the heavy bags on her shoulders pulling on her muscles and cutting into her skin. She barely noticed.

Closing her eyes, she formed her magic into shape before opening her palms and allowing a single, blue butterfly to appear. The soft light it was made out of illuminated her surroundings, filling the dark night with a dim shimmer. She sent it to her right and into a group of thick bushes before summoning three more, each one for another direction.

The last butterfly didn’t even leave her palm before a dark grey wolf appeared in front of her, racing towards her without slowing down and shifting into the man she loved only moments before she felt his arms wrapping around her. She had to take a step back from the sheer power of his embrace but instead of falling he kept her upright, clutched to his body like he would never want to let her go again. She returned the embrace just as fiercely.

Burying her nose in the crook of his neck Clarke inhaled deeply, very aware that he did the same thing. He smelled like the woods, like sweat and just _warm_. He smelled like _home_.

The two of them pulled apart before long, too aware of the danger he was still in to stay that way for too long.

Taking the two bags from her shoulder he turned around and shifted.

His wolf form had grown since she found him that first day, just like his human form had. He was now almost five feet tall and lean muscles played underneath his warm fur with every move he made. Picking up the two bags between his jaws, he turned around, grinning through the leather straps and blinking once.

They had tried it a few times, but it was something she never really felt comfortable with. He was her mate, not her horse, but for now he was right. They would be much faster when he ran, and she was much lighter than the deer and boars he usually carried during his hunts.

Climbing on his back, Clarke held on to the long fur above his shoulders. The last thing she did before Bellamy started to run was to cast a spell to hide their tracks.

Burying her face in his neck, Clarke took a deep breath. The pinky of her left hand found the thin, bare line along his side, connecting their skin and allowing herself to get lost in the feeling of freedom.

Freedom to be with her mate. To start their lives somewhere else, somewhere where they could be just themselves, without hiding who or what they were.

Freedom to be more than just a girl and a monster. Freedom to be more than just the witch and the wolf.

\---∞---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's chapter two… Only the epilogue to go and a little extra to go  
> What do you think?
> 
> I would love to hear your thoughts! :)


	3. … to get a “happy ending”

\---∞---

It had been three years since Clarke and Bellamy had to flee from her home village.

They had spent two months on the way, living in the woods, eating the animals he caught and the berries and roots she collected, falling asleep curled up around to each other. He had carried her for the first three days without more than five breaks, but when they crossed the border into the next realm she finally convinced him to let her walk on her own.

They had wandered through woods and fields and even through a stony desert at one point. In the first month, they were still on the watch of hunters, avoiding any kind of humans in fear of being caught.

When they were three realms away from her mother and the pain she could have inflicted, they started to look for a place to live. Though both enjoyed exploring the land and learning from it, they longed for a place to call home. A place to return to, where they could have their own family and where they could grow old together.

……

They found it next to a small creak, two miles away from a tiny settlement, hidden between old trees.

The people in the village were open and welcoming, accepting the young couple without asking questions about their lives. Many of them were refugees themselves. Some escaped cruel landlords, others hid from their relatives and there were even some that were _different_ from other humans. Well, almost like them.

There was a family with a young child who talked with them through pictures in their heads. It had been a feeling neither of them had ever experienced but found intriguing for it showed them the world in totally different ways. And there was an old man, who knew exactly when they would have to prepare for a heavy storm or store grain and meat for long winters and dry summers.

Clarke and Bellamy kept mostly to themself but ventured into the settlement every once in the while to get supplies they couldn’t make themself or on the search for a nice talk.

Bellamy had started to build a hut and refused to let Clarke help at first, until she had finished a wall within one night, using a few complicated but not too draining spells.

With her help, they were finished a month after arriving in the valley, three months after they were forced to flee. The small hut had three separate rooms and a washroom, together with a small but roomy pantry. One of the rooms became theirs, a soft, big bed in one corner, a small table in the other. It was covered with vials and kettles and above it hung a shelf with dozens of little cupboards and hooks for weeds and roots. A heavy bookshelf was pushed against an entire wall, leaving enough space for dozens of books, drawings or reminders.

On one of their strolls into the small settlement, they bumped into a peddler and Bellamy almost tripped over himself in his haste to get back to their cabin after seeing that the paddler had books with him.

After that day they owned several battered books, securely put in the bookshelf Bellamy had built himself. They had paid with furs, dried meat, and a vial of grounded bones but, for Clarke, the joy in his eyes would have been worth even more. It had been a weird trade, but the books were something he held dearly, for stories and myths were something Bellamy loved and could lose himself in for hours and days at a time.

Clarke later explained to him, that some humans thought that bones held a special sort of magic and they both had only laughed. Magic was something they were all too familiar with.

The second room was a combination of kitchen, dining area, and living room, and was bigger than the rest of the house. With the help of a little magic, Clarke had created a small well in the corner, giving them easy access to water without the need of leaving the warmth of their home in the winter. A sturdy fireplace was tucked into the wall connected to their bedroom and the third room, keeping their home warm even at night.

And the last room was a nursery. A promise to each other and themselves of having a family one day.

……

And one day came sooner than they had hoped for.

Now, three years later, Clarke sat outside of their cabin, her feet resting on a small stool, her hands folded over a slightly swollen belly.

A small wolf cub and a toddler played in front of their home, crawling all over their father who laid on his back in the grass. Every once in a while, he shifted, evoking a chore of giggles and yelps from the small children. They couldn’t control their shifting yet, and the twins jumped from wolf to human without any pattern.

Their fur was much fluffier than the one of their father’s, but just as soft, with white and blond streaks along their throat and belly in their otherwise dark grey pelt. In human form, they had dark hair, slightly lighter than Bellamy’s but both with piercing blue eyes like their mother’s.

They were perfect, and to watch her family, the people she loved most in this and any realm made her heart flutter with warmth and love.

Who would have thought that a mayor’s daughter and an orphaned boy, a witch and a wolf could find their happily ever after in each other?

\---∞---

But beware, for this is not a happy ending

This is not the end at all

Their lives are far from over

And there is so much more to tell

So, think about what they would do

For this is not a happy ending

Only the beginning of so much more to tell

\---∞---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was the epilogue of my Little-Red-Riding-Hood-Bellarke AU
> 
> Thank you so much for every comment, kudo and subscription!!!!
> 
> Let me know what you think!  
> Next chapter will be the assignment that I handed in after writing this story here
> 
> I am already working on a part two for this story, because like it says "For this is not a happy ending Only the beginning of so much more to tell" ;)


	4. Bonus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Assignment:  
> “The first story I would like you to tell should be based on a fairy story, fable, or folk tale.  
> Length: approximately 1.5 – 2 minutes (approximately 200 words) – minimum”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In one of my English classes, I had the assignment to create a fairytale (base on an already existing one, if I wanted) and then telling it to others verbally to improve my oral skills.  
> Well, you can’t tell me to write a story with only 200 or 300 words and expect my inner writer/Monk/complainer to just go with it. So, I wrote the following sort of summary for my class, which “only” has 313 words, and then went on to write the full story behind it. Within the first three paragraphs I had the – maybe stupid, maybe great – idea to use our fandom just because I can, and well… I guess you’ve read how that turned out ;)
> 
> Though I am really a slow writer, I finished this story within one sitting, meaning:  
> 8k words, 3 chapters, 2 parts, 20 pages, and 7h through the night, resulting in bloodshot eyes in the morning and probably the best (if short) sleep I had in the last few weeks!  
> 

\---∞---

You all know the story of Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf

But what if I told you, that the story was different from what you know?

What if I told you, that Little Red Riding Hood was called Clarke instead?

What if I told you, that she was indeed not a little girl, but a grown woman?

What if I told you, that she wasn’t wearing a silly red hood, but sturdy boots and heavy cloaks?

..., that her Grandmother was a grumpy old hag?

..., that her Grandmother wasn’t eaten by the wolf?

..., that the wolf, though big and scary, wasn’t bad at all?

..., that he was both man and wolf, just born like this?

..., that he was gentle, caring, and loyal?

..., that the wolf was Clarke’s friend for years and years?

..., that her Grandmother died of old age in her little hut with Clarke by her side?

..., that the wolf just found them there?

..., that he watched over her while she grieved?

…, that he hugged her close and let her cry?

..., that Clarke’s family blamed him for her Grandmother’s death?

..., that Clarke’s family sent out the hunter to bring him down?

..., that instead of leaving or killing him, Clarke ran away with him?

..., that both of them still live out there?

..., that they have a small hut in a different wood?

..., that both of them are happy and together?

..., that they are their own family now?

..., that they _have_ their own family now?

..., that there can be a happy ending in every story if you tell it right?

Would you still believe the story?

Would you want to hear that story?

I, for one, would prefer it over the common one.

I, for one, would love to hear that story.

\---∞---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, thats it… thank you for reading!! and like I said, there is more to come (eventually) ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!!  
> I would love to hear your thoughts on it! ;)
> 
> [I just edited some minor things in formation]


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